“Well, ‘nice is as nice does’ is what my mom always says.” Her mom often spoke in made-up proverbs. “You need to tell your dad about this. He’ll kick him right out of your house. He can’t be a project after this. He doesn’t deserve your family.”
“Don’t call him a project here at school. Nobody is supposed to know, remember?”
“Why do you care? He deserves some kind of payback.”
“Agreed, but it can’t be anything that reflects on my family.”
“Fine. My lips are sealed, until I see him. Then I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”
I had a feeling she was going to give him more than a piece.
We stepped into the room just as the tardy bell rang. Why did it sound like it was ringing the death knell on my reputation?
“Almost late, ladies,” Mr. Turner said, like it would be news to us.
“Sorry,” we both mumbled as we hurried to empty desks at the back of the room.
It was exam week. Because of my grades, I was exempt from every one of the two-hour exams spaced out over four days. I took a novel about a dystopian world out of my backpack and settled in to read as the nonexempts labored over their tests. But after twenty minutes, I hadn’t processed a single word. I was thinking about Fletcher, wondering why he’d made that stupid bet. Was everyone imagining me with him? Who all knew? Just the people who were at the party or had word spread through various social networks? Why would people care?
And to think that I’d been flattered that someone like Scooter Gibson had finally noticed me. He’d noticed me for all the wrong reasons. I felt stupid and hurt. And angry.
My reputation was ruined.
I’d always worried about being the good girl, never disappointing my parents, having stellar grades and an untarnished image. Like maybe I thought I would end up in politics or something and didn’t want anyone to ever find any dirt hidden in my past. But mostly, I wanted to make my parents proud.
I loved that my parents took in foster kids, that they worked with them, tried to help them acclimate to a life without violence or drugs or abuse. But when they first started doing it, a small part of me had wondered if they were trying to find a replacement for me. If maybe I didn’t exactly measure up to their expectations.
Crazy thoughts. I knew that. But it was amazing how I could blow things out of proportion. How something could worry me until it almost became a living, breathing demon that sucked away all rational thought.
“Okay, people, time’s up!” Mr. Turner announced. He was a stickler when it came to timing tests or accepting homework. He made no exceptions.
He took up the exams, then settled behind his desk and began calling us up to turn in our books. When he called my name, I walked to the front feeling like I was wearing a big scarlet S for slut on my back. I handed him my book.
He marked off my name, then looked at me with huge eyes magnified by his black-rimmed glasses. “Remember, Avery, every problem has a solution. Good luck.”
Had he said that to everyone? Did even the teachers know about the bet? “Uh, thanks,” I stammered. I’d barely reached my desk when the bell rang.
I snatched up my backpack. Without waiting for Kendall, I hurried out of the room and scoured the hallway for any sign of Fletcher as I strode to my locker, staring down every guy who looked at me like he was imagining me without clothes on, and one girl whose expression said “Slut.”
Of course, I had no classes whatsoever with loser Fletcher. And since he never studied or cracked open a book, I seldom saw him in the hallway where the seniors had their lockers. This morning I didn’t see him at all. Maybe he hadn’t even come to school. Maybe his bike was gone because he’d literally left, moved out. Maybe he was heading out of state. Out of the country would be better.
Kendall caught up with me at my locker. “What was the hurry?” she asked. “We have two hours before the next exam.”
“I was trying to find Fletcher.”
“I haven’t spotted him yet. Lucky for him. I would have punched him.”
I grinned. “Thanks.”
“Hey, babe,” Jeremy said as he joined us. He gave Kendall a quick kiss before looking at me. “Hey, Avery. Why so down? You’re exempt from all your exams, right?”
“But not exempt from gossip,” I told him. “I just learned about that stupid bet that loser Fletcher made.”
“Yeah, that’s a crappy way to start the last week of school, but for what it’s worth, a lot of people don’t believe anything happened.”
I knew he was trying to comfort me but all I really heard was that a lot of people knew. Then another thought hit me. Did people think nothing happened because Fletcher wouldn’t even bother to make a pass at me? Which he hadn’t, but still—I didn’t want people knowing that. Or did they think I was strong enough not to be lured in by his curb appeal? I couldn’t see any way for me to come out of this on top.
“Have you seen him?” I asked.
“No, I don’t have any classes with the guy. Why don’t we get out of here?” he asked. “Go to the Burger Shack for lunch. I’ll drive.”
“That sounds great,” I said. I needed to get off campus.
Of course, a lot of students went to the B.S. Standing in line, I endured their speculative glances. I was so glad when my food was ready and I was able to slip into a back corner booth.
Kendall and Jeremy sat opposite me. After squeezing ketchup over my fries, I shoved one into my mouth. The first good moment of the day: that incredible taste of something designed to clog my arteries.
“At least it’s the last week of school,” Kendall mused. “And a short one. Exams the rest of the week, we’re off Friday, have the ceremony Saturday, and we’re done.”
“I don’t understand why people believe him,” I muttered. “That they think I would just jump into the sack with him. I mean, we weren’t even on a date. He just offered to give me a ride home.”
Kendall lifted a shoulder. “You got on his bike.”
“Since when does getting a ride from a guy equal sleeping with him?”
“It doesn’t usually,” Jeremy told me. “But there was the bet—which I didn’t even hear about until this morning or I would have done something about it at the party. Add Fletcher to the mix . . . he has a reputation with the girls.”
“But we’re standing up for you,” Kendall said. “If anyone says anything to us, we’re telling them the rumors going around are crap.” She looked sadly at her burger as though it had disappointed her. “Although I don’t know how much good it does. I mean, I don’t know that it’s changing any minds.”
“That’s what makes me so mad,” I told her. “Other than making an announcement over the PA system, there’s no way I’m not leaving as the slut of Memorial High.”
“It’s not that bad. Someone with poor judgment maybe, but not a slut. Besides, what does it really matter?” Kendall asked. “You’re escaping at the end of summer. It won’t follow you to college. And you’ll probably never see any of these people until a class reunion.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.” Who would have thought an innocent ride home would fill the last week of my senior year with such drama? “What if people haven’t forgotten by the time we have a class reunion? What if that’s all they remember about me? This stupid rumor that I did something with Fletcher.”
“They’ll forget. It’s only important to them now. More important things are bound to happen to them before a reunion. Or at least I hope they do; otherwise that’s sad.”
“You’re right,” I said. “They won’t remember.” But I would. I’d remember the hurt of being played by a guy who I’d begun to think was nice. How could I have misjudged him so badly? He seemed so nice when really he was scum. Despicable.
“Uh-oh,” Kendall whispered, sitting up straighter.
I knew that tone, knew it didn’t bode well. Although I didn’t see how anything could make this day worse. “What?”
“Fle
tcher just sat down two tables over, behind you.”
I swung my head, peering around the corner of the booth. Oh, yeah, there he was, sharing his table with a blonde and a brunette, shaking salt over his fries, smiling, winking, teasing.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” I said to Kendall and Jeremy.
“Don’t let him chase you out of here,” Kendall commanded with conviction in her voice. She was all about standing up for herself. It was a trait we shared.
“Oh, I’m not.” I slid out of the booth, grabbed my backpack and my soft drink. I headed for the door, but stopped when I got to Fletcher’s table. Without ceremony or comment, I dumped my iced tea over his head.
Sputtering, he stood up so fast that he knocked over his chair. “What the f—”
Then his gaze landed on me, and his eyes widened. A corner of his mouth started to tilt up, but I wasn’t in the mood to let him complete that sexy, conniving smile or refer to me as a brainchild or whatever.
“Jerk,” I snarled.
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a hard line.
“Based on your reputation,” I continued, “I figured you had experience, but since you apparently weren’t aware that we didn’t have sex Saturday night, let me make it clear for you now: We did not have sex. Look in your biology book, chapter thirteen, if you need a lesson on what sex involves so you’ll recognize when it does happen.”
Then shifting the weight of my backpack, I stormed out of the almost silent B.S. I was shaking so badly, so much adrenaline rushing through my system, that I didn’t know how I managed to keep my legs from buckling as I made my way to Jeremy’s car. I felt better, but I was a long way from feeling like this was over.
Chapter 8
FLETCHER
Damn it. Avery knew about the bet.
As I stood there with tea dripping down my face, I couldn’t help but admire her spunk, though.
With a steely glare, Kendall Jones walked by me, Jeremy Swanson right behind her. “Not cool, dude,” he said as he passed.
Did he think I didn’t know that? I’d hoped that she wouldn’t hear the rumors going around. I should have known better. There weren’t a lot of secrets at our school, which was the reason I was very careful about what I revealed. I thought about going after Avery but now didn’t seem like the right time or place. It would just make matters worse. I looked at Ronda and Vicki, the two girls who had asked to join me for lunch.
“I’ll be back.” I grabbed a stack of napkins because I knew the B.S. had electric hand dryers, then went into the bathroom and blotted up the sticky tea on my face and in my hair. She would drink sweet tea. Once my black T-shirt dried, no one would know about the incident. Who was I kidding? It would be all over school by the end of the day.
Grabbing hold of the sink, I leaned in toward the mirror. The bruises would be there for a while, but I wasn’t sure where I was going to be if Avery told her dad about the bet—which she seemed mad enough to do. If she did, her dad would kick me out, and then where would I go? He might even tell Smiley to fire me before I’d had a chance to start work.
I had to talk to Avery before she spoke to her dad. She wouldn’t call him, right? She’d wait until he got home? I’d just have to catch her before then. That wasn’t going to be easy since we were on shortened days. After combing my fingers through my damp hair, I headed back out to the dining area. Ronda and Vicki were gone. So was my burger. Someone had cleared our table. The place was nearly empty, and all the students had vanished. I looked at my watch and cursed. I was going to be late to my next exam.
Saturday night, it had all seemed like an easy way to make some cash. Now it could cost me everything.
Chapter 9
AVERY
I was so tempted to skip school that afternoon. I didn’t have to take a final but I did have to be there for roll call. I thought about checking in and telling the teacher I was sick, but I’d never skipped in my life. The thought of doing it now, just because of Fletcher, made me angrier.
So I stayed for the afternoon and ignored the whispers I heard around me, trying to convince myself that they didn’t have anything to do with me. Why did people even care? Maybe they were just nervous about graduation or finals or not knowing what the future held, and it was easier to focus on gossip than the realities of what happened next.
I was so relieved when the bell rang. Three more days to go. Not that I was counting. Some guy whistled at me as I rushed out the door to the parking lot. I avoided everyone’s gazes. All I wanted to do was get home.
When I pulled Trooper into the driveway, I was disappointed to see that Fletcher’s bike was already there. How had he gotten home before me? Probably skipped school after he ended up with my sweet tea on his head.
I entered through the front door and was assailed by the aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I detoured into the kitchen, coming up short at the sight of Fletcher, wearing a milk mustache, sitting on a stool at the island counter.
“Avery!” Tyler shouted, nearly tumbling off the stool beside Fletcher to come around and give me a hug, leaving cookie crumbs on my jeans. When he’d first come to us, he hadn’t known what a hug was, flinched anytime arms went up as though he expected to get hit. Now he gave the best hugs.
“Hey, hon,” Mom said. “Come join us for some warm cookies and milk.”
I shifted my attention back to Fletcher. He’d apparently taken a napkin to his mouth while I was distracted with Tyler. “No, thanks. I just wanted to let you know I was home.”
“As though I wouldn’t know that with all the noise that old clunker makes,” she said with a smile.
But I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Trooper gets me where I need to be.”
“Trooper?” Fletcher asked.
Ignoring him, I said, “I’m going for a run.”
Before Mom could get after me for my rudeness, I turned on my heel and headed through the doorway. I heard Tyler explaining to Fletcher that Trooper was the name I’d given my car. It seemed the bad boy was charming everyone in the family. I refused to admit that he’d looked adorable with the white mustache.
In my bedroom, I slung my backpack onto my bed. I was so tense that I could have screamed. I changed into shorts, a tank, and my running shoes. After pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I slipped on a Texas Astros cap. With my iPhone nestled in an armband, I tucked the earbuds into my ears and headed out through the front door.
Fletcher was standing near the garage and immediately began striding toward me. Guess he’d had his fill of cookies. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t think so.” Normally I stretched out here. Should have done it on the deck or in the backyard. I started out at a jog.
Fletcher, in boots, loped beside me. “Come on.”
Reaching out, he grabbed my arm. I wrenched free, jerked the earbuds loose, and jogged in place. “Don’t touch me.”
“Look, I know you’re mad—”
“You don’t know anything about me. Let’s keep it that way.”
I headed off again, my feet pounding the pavement. I could hear the echo of Fletcher’s biker boots thumping along beside me. I glanced over. “You are not running with me.”
“I want to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I know about the bet, I know what you told everyone. You think you’re important, that you have something to prove. All you did was ruin my reputation. And for what? To be the big man of the hour? You’re just small.” I lengthened my stride, quickened my pace, and left him in the dust.
I heard his steps slow and fade. I went faster, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that he couldn’t keep up with me. I wanted as much distance between us as possible. I thought he’d been nice, looking after me at the party, offering me a ride. He’d just been using me to make money, to prove that no girl was immune to his charms. I felt like such an idiot.
I raced around a curve in the path that led through a stretch of green that intersected the
neighborhood. Trees grew tall on either side, the branches forming an arbor that provided shade and warded off the sun. My parents were like the trees, always trying to protect me, but they couldn’t protect me from everything. Sure, I could tell Dad about the bet, then Fletcher would be gone, but I was a little old to be tattling, to be expecting my father to take care of matters that I could just as easily take care of.
I was graduating from high school, going to college. I could handle a few weeks of Fletcher underfoot. I didn’t have to talk to him. I could be cool during meals, ignore him as we cleaned up after supper. He’d retreat to his apartment over the garage. I’d be in my room. I could make this work.
I circled back around and headed home. I nearly stumbled over my feet when I spotted Fletcher sitting on the steps leading to his apartment. So much for doing my cooldown in the driveway. The backyard would have to do. Habit had me slowing my steps as I went by the stairs. Anger had me ignoring him.
“I didn’t tell anyone you slept with me,” he said.
Instinct told me to keep going. Instead I stopped dead in my tracks, wished I wasn’t breathing so heavily, and glared at him. “That was the bet, and you collected.”
He turned his head slightly, and I wondered if my gaze could scorch him. “The bet was that you would leave with me,” he said. “You did. I can’t help that some people think more happened.”
Hands on my hips, I took a step closer. “You didn’t hint that something happened?”
“Nope.”
“Not even with a sly wink or a nudge? A little knowing smile?”
“No.”
He was looking at me through the slats in the railing, his gaze direct, honest.
“Then why are guys putting moves on me?”
“Who?”
“What?”
“Who’s putting moves on you?” he asked tersely.
Trouble From the Start Page 6
